P.S. I Like You(49)

I opened the front door and stepped outside while Cade’s fist was in the air, getting ready to knock again. He wore a nice pair of pants and a button-down short-sleeved shirt. His hair was combed and he held a wrapped box in his hand.

He looked at the closed door over my shoulder and then said, “Your brother invited me.”

“I know. Did he warn you about how crazy our house is?”

“No.”

“Well, here is your warning. You can leave now before anyone even knows you’re here if you want to.” I wanted to add that I wasn’t sure our house was exactly a better alternative to his. But that would mean giving away that I knew he was my pen pal.

“I told your brother I’d come,” Cade said.

“Fine. But I want to have a nice day so let’s call a truce, okay? Let’s not fight today … because it’s Thanksgiving.”

“Because it’s Thanksgiving?” he asked, one eyebrow going up.

I hadn’t meant to quote one of his letters again. It just came out. But he wouldn’t possibly guess that I was quoting him. I was the last person he would think was exchanging letters with him.

“Unless that much self-control is too hard for you,” I added, trying to cover.

“You’ve already broken the truce with that comment,” Cade pointed out with a half-smile.

“The truce doesn’t start until you enter the house.”

“And it ends the second I leave?”

“Yes.”

“Deal.” He held out his hand like we should shake on it.

I almost walked away from his outstretched hand but figured I should get a head start on playing nice.

I shook. “Good.”

When I tried to pull my hand back, he held on. “You look nice.”

“What?” I spit out. “No need to overdo it. I said no fighting. I didn’t say we had to think of compliments.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “This is going to be fun. And I sense it might be harder for you than it will be for me.”

“Because you’re used to being fake?” I bit my tongue before I said more.

“No, because you seem incapable of being nice.” He dropped my hand and opened the door, leaving me on the porch staring after him.

So had we called a truce or not? Sealing a truce with insults didn’t seem like a very promising start.

He was right, I wasn’t sure I could do this.

“Cade’s here, everyone!” I called, walking in behind him.

“Coach!” Wyatt came running down the hall. It looked like he was tempted to hug Cade, but then he held up his hand for a fist bump instead. Cade complied. Jonah appeared as well, and wanted his own fist bump.

“I’m Jonah. I’m seven and you’ll be my coach in two years,” he told Cade.

“Hopefully,” Cade said. “I might be away at college by then.”

“You can come back to coach me,” Jonah assured him.

“I hope I can. Wyatt, direct me to your mom. I have a gift for her.”

“Why did you bring her a gift?”

“Because it’s polite to bring people gifts when they have you over.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Wyatt said thoughtfully. “Except for birthday parties, but this isn’t a birthday party.”

Cade draped his arm over Wyatt’s shoulder. “You’re right.”

They left and I took a deep breath. I could do this. I’d just imagine Cade as the guy I’d been exchanging letters with, the one my brother looked up to, not as the one who mocked me in the halls and warned guys away from me.

Just as I was about to see if my mom needed help in the kitchen, the doorbell rang again. I turned around and answered it. A guy holding a bottle of sparkling cider stood on the porch. His dark hair was a mess, but his clothes were wrinkle-free and dressy so I assumed the hair thing was purposeful. Considering my own hair on most days, I really should’ve been more forgiving of unruly hair.

“Hi,” I said.

“I’m Mark.”

Ashley’s friend … boyfriend? “Oh, right, food teeth guy.”

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Come in. I’m Lily.”

“Ah,” he said as if he now understood some mystery. What had my sister told him about me and how could I already have proven whatever that was in two sentences?

“Ash!” I yelled, stepping inside. “Your … boy is here!”

Ashley came sweeping into the room in a cloud of perfume and hairspray. I wasn’t even sure what about her hairstyle required hairspray, but she’d used a lot of it. “Mark! Hi! Oh is that for us?” She gestured toward the bottle he held. “Thank you.” She threaded her fingers between his and led him away.